Being somewhat of an aberration in this corner of the net, I still vote and care about what the ruling class is doing. Maybe if I hadn’t been lackadaisical about prophylactic use after getting married, I wouldn’t care. For now, though, I do. Even if I’m just a drop in the bucket nationally, my vote still matters locally. There are times when just a handful of votes prevent excessive millage increases or the nutty lawsuit-waiting-to-happen candidate from becoming sheriff.
Sometimes, though, it’s just one vote. From an unelected squish. Who, to rip off a girl on twitter who I cannot remember, gets scolded by his wife for folding her laundry incorrectly and responds by apologizing. And then that squish apologizes to the president for even thinking about folding his laundry the wrong way.
There is no fooling ourselves. Obamacare is here to stay. Name a program that has gone away once implemented? The companies want the new customers. The lobbyists want to keep their jobs. The populace, well-fed slaves that we are, develops a mindset of, “Well, what’s your alternative?” The notion that it’s not Leviathan’s job to fix healthcare vanishes and we move one step closer to the cradle to bigger cradle to death eventuality that too many actively want.
As to paying the fine instead of buying insurance, that penalty is going to skyrocket. Quickly. And many of us won’t risk it regardless. Obamacare covers preexisting conditions, not preexisting bills. If you’re a single man, the risk won’t be too bad. If you have a wife and kids, you know that very expensive bills can happen very fast. We’re a captive audience.
Orwell had it wrong. Huxley had it right: “Universal happiness keeps the wheels steadily turning, truth and beauty can’t.” The only problem is that some of us know that while we may derive happiness from succor, we do not derive it from entitlement. The teeming masses, alas, don’t care so long as there is Soma and reality television.
Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensations for misery. And, of course, stability isn’t nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness is never grand.